the Hammonds lived. And where the girl lived who was certain he was a
"conceited snippet." Whatever he might be in reality he hoped it was not
that. "Snippet" was not in his dictionary, but he didn't like the sound
of it.

"Who owns the packet?" he asked, to make conversation.

"Zach Foster. Married Freewill Doane's daughter over to Harniss. She's
dead now."

"A good sailor, is he?"

Captain Zeb spat in supreme disgust.

"Good farmer!" he snorted. "Zach took over the packet for a debt when
the chap that used to run her died. His dad, old man Foster, raised
garden truck at the same time mine went to sea. Both of us took after
our fathers, I guess. Anyhow, my wife says that when I die 'twill be of
salt water on the brain, and I'm sure Zach's head is part cabbage. Been
better for him if he'd stuck to his garden. However, I s'pose he does
his best."

"They say angels can do no more."

"Um-m. Well, Zach'll be an angel pretty soon if he keeps on cruisin'
with that old hooker as she is. 'Bijah Perry, he's mate and the only
good seaman aboard, tells me that most of the riggin's rotten and the
main topmast ain't sound, by a good deal. The old man's put off havin'
her overhauled for two reasons, one that repairs cost money, and t'other
that puttin' off is the main sheet of his gospel. When there's no rain